Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn

Cannon shots fired from nearby range

Struck and felled the mainsail mast

Whiskey numbs but does not pain

Stop the fevered wound from last

Bleeding edges outward crimson flow

From the candle the flame estrange

Captured lies the wordsmith chained

Wherefore can or will the poet go

Lamed and bleeding the ship on shoal

Hobbled cannot find the sacred flow

The glass of wine has no taste

The rum taken up in haste

Staggers only an empty boat

Wounded, drowning cannot stay afloat

Signal fires wet cannot smoke

And silence heard loud birthed proclaimed,

Leave me.              9/13/12

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